


Finding Will Graham

by elancharmant



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:32:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elancharmant/pseuds/elancharmant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years later, Jack Crawford finds Will Graham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jack Crawford was a determined man. They told him “They’re dead, swept out to sea,” and “They wouldn’t have survived long in temperatures like those.”  But Jack Crawford had been chasing the Ripper long enough to know that very little, not even the frigid Atlantic, would stop Hannibal Lecter.

He knew, he just  _ knew _ , that Hannibal Lecter was still out there. There has been a string of brutal murders across mainland Europe that bore most, but not all, of the marks of the Ripper. No one had caught the perpetrator, which cemented in Jack’s mind that Hannibal had to be behind them.  He was sure there were more murders that had gone unreported, unnoticed, unconnected.  

Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham were presumed dead. There was no more FBI funding for a search, no warrants out for their arrest, and no hotline to call with anonymous tips. Molly was a widow; Alana and Margot sighed deep sighs of relief.

But Jack did not give up. He found an ally in Freddie Lounds, who was equally convinced that the two were still out there. They had their differences: Jack didn’t think Hannibal and Will would stick together, while Freddie assumed they were married. Jack and Freddie rabidly pursued their prey with little payoff. Jack pulled as many FBI records as he could without drawing attention to himself. They pored over travel records, immigration records, the society pages from newspapers the world over, crime reports, and police blotters. They were like the scientists researching the Higgs Boson particle: its presence was reflected in the world around it, but they couldn’t find it itself. Ripper-esque murders coinciding with opera season in Paris, for example. The disappearance of Winston. But Hannibal Lecter himself? Not to be found. 

Five years went by. Freddie became embroiled in unrelated Tattle Crime drama. Fewer and fewer clues were added to the bulletin board in Jack’s home study. 

One early February morning, Jack was awake early. The light that shone in through his living room window was extra bright and crisp from the layer of fresh snow. He sat on the couch, hunched over his laptop, browsing his and Freddie’s usual Internet sources.

And then there was Will Graham’s smiling face looking up at him.

Well, maybe.

His face appeared in the corner of a black and white photo in the local news of Toulouse, France. The focus was on several other men, dressed casually, holding drinks. The caption was something about a fundraiser for an environmental conservation effort. 

There was never a doubt in Jack’s mind that he needed to go to Will. He wasn’t sure what he would find, but he needed to go.

_ ****** _

Jack took British Airways through Heathrow to Toulouse on March 1. He really had very little to go on. He managed to obtain a list of fishing license holders in Toulouse and the surrounding area but there were nearly one thousand names. Jack skimmed the list of but none of them stuck out as something Will would choose. 

Jack wasted no time upon landing in Toulouse. Immediately after checking in at the hotel and before taking his bags up to the room, he requested fishing information from the concierge. 

He started with the fishing spots farther out from the city. He spent a week lurking along riverbanks, carefully eyeing any fishermen over the top of his book. The weather was still cold and the fishing was limited during this time of year, so there were few people out. Jack got some strange looks for sitting outside in his coat and scarf, perusing a book, but mostly he was alone. 

On Saturday, Jack went to a secluded spot along l’Ariège and saw a familiar flannel-wearing figure in the middle of the river.  Will was downriver a little bit, facing away from Jack, who stood stock still. This was the moment he had been working so hard for, but what to do? Did he shout for Will’s attention? Should he embrace him? Yell at him? Handcuff him?

Instead Jack waited several hours before Will turned and headed toward the bank.

“Jack,” Will said, showing no emotion besides a small quirk in his eyebrow. 

“You knew I’d find you,” Jack said, “Judging by your lack of surprise.”

“Of course,” Will said, smiling kindly at him. “There’s no hiding from Jack Crawford.”

Will walked with Jack back toward the road, where a black Range Rover was parked beneath a tree. It was not the kind of car Will would buy himself. Jack couldn’t imagine Will even accepting it as a gift. Could Freddie have been right? Were Will and Hannibal truly living out the murder husband scenario that Freddie so frequently expounded upon in Tattle Crime?

“It’s almost six,” Will said, while placing his fish in a cooler in the trunk, “I’ll have you over for dinner, if you’d like?”

_ ****** _

Will drove away from the city and toward Saint-Lys, if Jack had studied his maps correctly. Will made a call from the road; he spoke in French. From what Jack gathered, he said to set another place at the table for dinner. They rode in silence. Will apparently had no questions for Jack as to how he had found him. Jack had a lot of questions for Will, but didn’t know where to start.

Will pulled off of the main road onto a narrow dirt driveway. They rode for several minutes, with nothing to see out the window but trees and rolling countryside in the distance. Finally, a large white villa came into view. It had the air of being a quaint, humble farmhouse, with its light blue shutters and multiple chimneys. But in reality, it sprawled out across the neatly maintained yard and had to be very expensive.

And Jack knew that Hannibal had to be here.


	2. Chapter 2

Will parked in the garage and they entered through a mudroom. They were greeted by Winston and two other dogs (one small, one large, both obviously mutts) and then a small girl of about five with dark hair and dark eyes that came running in.  She eyed Jack warily and wordlessly jumped into Will’s open arms.

Will kissed her head and whispered in French into her ear. He situated her onto his hip and ushered Jack into the living room. 

“Something to drink? Whiskey or bourbon?”

Jack forced a laugh. “That’s the Will I know.  Whiskey?”

Jack sat in an oversized leather armchair facing a fireplace. He eyed every corner of the room. There were floor-length curtains on the vast windows behind him, classical paintings on the walls, and bookshelves both tall and wide. There was also a pile of dog beds in the corner near the fireplace, where the dogs that greeted them at the door were now settling.

Will left the room and came back with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. The girl sat curled up in a corner of the couch, on the end farther away from Jack, and stared suspiciously at him.

After pouring two fingers each of whiskey for Jack and himself, Will knelt in front of the fireplace and soon had a blazing fire going. 

“I’m pretty impressed, Jack,” Will said, sitting back on the couch, his arm around the girl. “Tell me about what it took to find me.”

Jack took note of the fact that Will said “me” and not “us.” 

“A lot of fruitless work and a little bit of luck. Your picture was in the local news here. Well, you were in the corner.”

Will mulled that over. “You had Freddie Lounds’ help, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Jack said. “We had different motives, but the same goal.”

“And what was your goal, Jack?”

“My goal was to find you. To what end, I’m still not sure.”

“Do you feel responsible for me? Guilty?”

“No,” Jack said sharply. “Not guilty. I gave you the opportunity to get out early on. Responsible, maybe. I got between you and your dogs. Between you and your quiet life.”

“I still have Winston and my fishing,” Will said. At his name, Winston perked up his ears and looked over at Will.  Will smiled.

Will cleared his throat. “And I neglected to formally introduce you two. This is Emilie.” He looked down at Emilie, smiling fondly. “And Emilie, this is Uncle Jack.”

The three sat in silence, looking at the fire.

Jack took a deep breath. “Why did you not come back, Will? Why just let us assume you were dead?”

There was a pause. And then Hannibal Lecter entered the room, wiping his hands with a dishtowel.  “Dinner’s ready.”

Jack started, but Will’s hand was already firmly on his shoulder.

“Don’t do anything foolish, Jack.”

******

It was just like the old days, except with a small child present. Hannibal sat at the head of the table, with Jack to his right. Will sat across from Jack, Emilie in a booster seat on his left. 

Dinner was a traditional  _ cassoulet _ with Toulouse sausage, paired with red wine. 

“Had I known we were going to have company sooner, I would have made you some  _ foie gras _ ,” Hannibal said to Jack. “It’s a traditional dish in the area.”

Jack met Hannibal’s gaze but did not say anything.

“Jack and I were talking about how he found us,” Will said conversationally, between bites of sausage. “Freddie Lounds was also on our trail.”

“She’s a tenacious girl,” Hannibal said. “You didn’t bring her with you, did you, Jack?”

“No,” Jack said shortly.

Will leaned over, cutting Emilie’s food for her.

“You haven’t touched your food yet, Jack,” Hannibal pointed out.  “A bit rude, isn’t it?”

“I know what you put in your food, Hannibal,” he said. 

“You’ve eaten at my table before.” Hannibal said. He did not deny what was in his sausage.

“ _ Unknowingly _ ,” Jack said coldly. 

Hannibal looked like he was on the verge of saying something, but Will leaned to his right and laid his hand on Hannibal’s arm, as if to calm him.

“How have you found France so far?” Will asked.

Jack glared at him. “What’s happened to you, Will?  Playing house with  _ Hannibal Lecter _ ?”

Will shrugged while Hannibal clutched his fork and knife tightly, knuckles going white.

“You’re on dangerous ground, Mr. Crawford,” Hannibal said.

“It’s a fair question,” Will said to Hannibal.  He faced Jack and said, “Believe me, Jack, it’s hard to say what happened. It’s hard to describe. There was the time before the Fall and now there’s the time after the Fall. I’m just following my instincts. I’ve learned to trust myself.”

“That’s not  _ who you are _ , Will,” Jack said, leaning forward and looking only at Will, as if Hannibal was not there. “You want to save lives. You want to help people.”

Will shrugged again. 

Hannibal chimed in, “You don’t know who he is, Jack, and it’s not polite to fight over dinner. Perhaps afterwards, over a few drinks?”

Jack fell silent. Will, Hannibal, and Emilie finished eating, conversing quietly in French, giving Jack a chance to quietly observe them. There was fondness and lovingness between all three. Hannibal and Will exuded a sense of mutual adoration. They smiled at each other and occasionally reached out for a gentle touch on the elbow or hand. 

Once everyone had finished, Hannibal looked at Jack. “Well? Let’s have ourselves a  _ digestif _ .”

Once again, Will had moved without Jack noticing. He was behind Jack, hand on his shoulder. 

“Is this really necessary, Will?” Jack asked.

“You’re an FBI agent in our home,” Hannibal said, “I should say it is.”

Will escorted Jack back to the living room while Hannibal cleared the table and took Emilie up to bed.

They sat in silence until Hannibal returned and poured everyone brandy.

“You wish to express your displeasure, Jack?” Hannibal asked.  He sat on the couch next to Will, arm protectively around his shoulder. Will leaned into his touch ever so slightly. What struck Jack was how  _ comfortable _ Will looked in close proximity to the other man. Jack had never seen Will look so at ease in all of the time they had known each other.

“You’ve taken Will, the Will I knew, and  _ made _ him something else,” Jack snarled.

“Quite the opposite,” Hannibal said proudly, “He has become who he is today all on his own. I could not have molded him into something this perfect and beautiful if I had tried.”

“You manipulated us all, Hannibal, especially Will.”

“Of course I did,” Hannibal said, practically beaming. “I had plans for everyone, especially Will. But Will  _ became _ all on his own. He exceeded everything I had hoped and dreamed for him.”  He leaned over and kissed Will on the top of the head.

It was too much for Jack. He lunged out of his chair and towards Hannibal, no weapon in hand and no plan in mind. He just needed to  _ stop  _ this, stop whatever nightmare this was, stop this world where Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter were a lovey-dovey couple, this world where Hannibal had consumed whatever was left of who Will Graham once was.

Things went poorly for Jack rather quickly. Will stopped him before he got to Hannibal, slamming Jack’s head into the coffee table, shattering the glass inlay. 

Jack threw a fist blindly into the air. A hand -- Hannibal’s? -- wrapped firmly around his wrist and pushed it down to the ground. Another hand on his other wrist and he was pinned. He kicked and kneed, but he was not in the shape he used to be. 

The ringing in his ears and the pounding in his head Hannibal’s voice sound far away, but he still heard every word distinctly.

“What do you think, Will? Shall we fatten him up to eat his liver?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been my first foray into writing in ....years, so hopefully this doesn't disappoint. This chapter took longer than expected because I got bogged down in the dialogue (and also trying to figure out what Hannibal would serve at his dinner table). Come visit me at ratamalisima.tumblr.com.


End file.
